


You're Dead To Me

by TheRealLifeCath



Series: Use Your Words [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I hate tagging, M/M, Oneshot, Sequel, Song fic, don't know how to tag, idk what else to tag, inspired by the song surrender by natalie taylor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 04:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19456843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealLifeCath/pseuds/TheRealLifeCath
Summary: Sequel to 'What We Do'. Set after Season 14's finale, Cas is angry at Dean and avoiding him, and Dean can't sleep. Angsty feels follow.





	You're Dead To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Surrender, by Natalie Taylor, this is a sequel to my last fic 'What We Do'. I don't really know if any of this fic makes sense, but it's been sitting here on my laptop, and I keep editing it and obsessing over it, so I just thought 'going to post it and hope for the best'. So, enjoy.

"You're dead to me."

Dean has said things before, that he regrets. It's not uncommon for him, or any human being for that matter to say something they don't mean in the middle of an argument.

He wasn't angry at Cas, at least not really.

Mostly, he was angry at Jack. Dean had to face the empty, lifeless body of his mum, again, so he just flipped out and attacked the nearest person.

He's not proud of it. Like, at all.

From the moment those four words left his mouth, he regretted it. He knew he crossed a line, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from making it all so much worse.

The pain from losing his mum, from having to burn her body, made him do things he'll never be able to take back.

Not that he's making excuses. He knows it's his fault that Jack ended up dead, and Chuck started the goddamn apocalypse, and Cas won't talk to him; all that is his fault.  
  
He can't sleep or eat because the guilt is eating him alive.

Every night he wakes from the worst of nightmares, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, and there is nothing he can do to calm himself down but pace through the hall.

After Chuck disappeared, and the zombies surrounded them, they fought their way out with little to no difficulty. As it turns out Zombies are pretty easy to kill if you know how.

So far there has been no sign of Chuck, which worries Dean. It's never good when a big bad goes quiet because it means they're planning something big. And Dean has had enough of big.

With the number of monsters and creatures that have returned, there's been plenty of cases. And still, Dean is feeling overly restless like he's not doing enough.

Maybe he isn't. Correction, he knows he isn't.

Cas still pissed at Dean for all that he did and said, has been giving him the silent treatment, if you can even call it that. He's been avoiding Dean, and if it weren't for Sam saying he's talked to Cas, Dean would think that he didn't live in the bunker anymore.

He guesses he deserves it.

Cas has every right to be mad at Dean, but he wants nothing more than for the angel to forgive him, or, at least, talk to him.

It's like Cas knows Dean's every move, and knows exactly when to leave a room, and when to enter another. He doesn't understand it in the slightest, but there is a lot of things he still doesn't understand about Angels.

With his brain running in circles, and his stomach churning from guilt, he finds himself in the kitchen at one am. He knows only one way to drown out the loud voices and painful thoughts, and that is alcohol.

The Bunker is quiet, and he can hear his every footstep, as he crosses the kitchen to the cupboard where he hopes there is some Jack Daniels or at least Bourbon.

He can hear Sam's voice in his head saying, 'alcohol doesn't solve anything,' but he doesn't know how else to calm his erratic mind.

Ignoring the pain in his heart, and the increasing guilt in his stomach, he pulls out the last bottle of Whiskey. Proceeding to debate with himself as to whether or not he should use a glass.

He doesn't see the point of using a glass. There's no point to anything anymore. The world is ending, and he's lost almost everyone he cared for, in the process. Alcohol can help drown all that out.

But, as he's twisting the cap off, and lifting the bottle, he feels his chest ache, and his body weakens with exhaustion.

He's tired. Tired of drinking away the pain, tired of waiting for Cas to talk to him, tired of fighting, tired of everything.

The fucking world is ending for hell's sake. He's sick of the routine, he just wants to make the most of the days left.

So he screws the cap back on the bottle of whiskey, places it back on the shelf, and leaves the kitchen.

He walks through the halls and stops in front of the bedroom that is three doors down from his. He can feel his stomach churn in anxiety as he opens the door, and steps inside, closing the door behind him.

The room is in almost complete darkness, but as Dean's eyes adjust, he can make out the figure in the bed.

He's never done this before.

I mean, he's snuck into Cas' room before to... you know... but Cas has always been awake, and Dean is not here for sex. No, they've done enough of the fuck-it-out-and-never-talk-again thing.

Before Cas left that morning, he told himself that they'd always come back to each other. It was the first time Dean had woken up with Cas' warmth, and now, Dean doesn't - he can't go back to how it was before that.

He walks forward, carefully navigating through the darkness, to the side of the bed.

Noticing Cas is asleep on his side, facing the other wall, and underneath the covers, Dean slips off his shoes and his over-shirt and pulls back the covers on that side.

He gets in, scooching across to find Cas' body.

When he does, he slides an arm over Cas' waist and presses his front along Cas back.

He knows he's needy. He just needs the comfort right now.

Pressing his forehead at the base of Cas' neck, he breathes him in, finding his home in the smell of coconut shampoo, and Cas' warmth.

I mean he's not complaining. It smells amazing.

In the dark, he has the courage to hold Cas close, he has the strength to breathe Cas in. Only now, he's brave enough to do and say anything he feels towards the angel.

Because in the light, when they are awake, he falters.

"Dean," it's soft and quiet, and Dean almost doesn't hear him.

He feels his heart skip a beat and his head swarms with anxious thoughts. Cas could get angry, tell Dean to leave. He doesn't know how he could cope with that.

"Yeah," he says lamely, burying his head in Cas' neck, and tightening his hold on Cas waist.

He doesn't want Cas to tell him to leave. He's done walking away from the thing between them.

Cas turns around in Deans arms, facing Dean, and ending up closer than the two have ever been before. Not like this. Cas bluer than blue eyes are right there, along with his lips.

Dean swallows dryly, wetting his bottom lip, and forcing his eyes to meet Cas'.

"I thought you were still mad," his eyebrows furrow, and he narrows his eyes, in that Cas way that makes Dean swoon every time.

He's pathetic. His Dad would punch him for being so needy.

Dean sighs. "No, I... I should apologize, I - I'm sorry Cas," he says. "I was being a dick, and I'm sorry."

He doesn't look at Cas, just looks down, avoiding his eyes in case there is anger or hate there, or even worse, rejection.

"Dean," Cas says softly, hand coming to rest on Dean's face, fingers splaying over his neck, making Dean look up into Cas' blue irises. His heart stutters.

"You don't need to apologize to me, I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I was disappointed -"

Dean turns his head away, feeling the guilt come up and eat him alive. Disappointment is worse than anger. It just is.

"Hey," Cas thumb grazes the skin over his cheekbone, making a shudder run through Dean. "Look at me."

Dean lifts his eyes hesitantly, meeting Cas' again.

Cas eyebrows furrow and he looks like there are too many words he wants to say, but there's not enough time to speak. Dean knows the feeling all too well.

"In the name of honesty, I was hurt. I was mad at you for what you did, to Jack. But I don't care about that part anymore, Dean I... you are a good person, and you believe in doing the right thing. Even if you get lost along the way, I will still be here, waiting," Cas moves his hand, fingers slipping through the short hairs on Dean's head.

Dean doesn't know what to say. He can't think of a single thing that could convey how much he appreciates Cas for saying those words.

So he doesn't speak. Instead, he moves forward, into Cas' personal space, and brushes his lips against Cas'.

His stomach flutters and Cas' hand closes in a fist in Dean's hair. With their lips just barely touching, and Dean's arms wrapped tightly around Cas' waist, he moves his head forward that tiniest inch, closing the gap.

The noise that sounds like a sob or a moan, or a gasp comes from either one of them. Dean's not really sure.

All he knows is that he's kissing Cas, and it feels good, and it's been too long.

He isn't aware of the light glowing in Cas chest - he's not aware of how happy Cas is in that moment. And even if he is aware, he wouldn't be fazed.

Because he isn't aware of what Cas gave up, of the deal, he made to save the now dead Nephilim.

Dean doesn't know it, but the 'you're dead to me,' is going to have a much more literal meaning in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> There you go... sorry for the weird ending, believe it or not, I rewrote it a thousand times. 
> 
> Leave kudos if you liked it, don't if you... don't like it.


End file.
